


This Time I'll Teach You How To Dance

by Nellie



Series: On The Curve [2]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Anal Sex, First Time, M/M, Missionary Position, Teaching, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-05
Updated: 2011-02-05
Packaged: 2017-10-15 18:16:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/163540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nellie/pseuds/Nellie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur has never topped before. Eames sets out to help him rectify this. AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Time I'll Teach You How To Dance

It’s late Friday afternoon when Arthur slams the heavy pile of paper down on Eames’s kitchen table.

“It’s fucking done,” he announces.

Eames abandons the spaghetti to slip on his glasses and pick up the document. “Wasn’t it due today?”

Arthur waves a dismissive hand. “I already sent it all through.” He takes a deep, relieved breath. “No more book to stay up all night fucking with. I don’t even know what I’m going to do with myself.”

Eames pushes his glasses back up onto the bridge of his nose and keeps flicking through the manuscript. “You can fuck with me instead,” he says nonchalantly. Because honestly, for all that Arthur’s sixteen and usually keen for sex whenever the opportunity comes up, him writing this book hasn’t been kind to their sex life.

He’s expecting a quip, some kind of dirty talk, anything in response. But when he looks up Arthur is just staring at him, eyes wide like a deer in headlights.

The expression is gone within a second. “I suppose I can.”

Eames flicks a few more pages, chewing over Arthur’s reaction. “Do you want to? Fuck me, I mean.”

Arthur freezes again. “I... I’ve thought about it.”

It’s easy to forget sometimes that Arthur hasn’t been with anyone else, that all the practical experience he has with sex has come in Eames’s bed. “If you want to, we can. We can do it right now.”

They only look at each other for half a second before they’re both heading for the stairs.

Most of their clothes end up on the landing, where Eames pushes Arthur back against the banister and kisses him while slim fingers work his trousers off. By the time they make it onto the bed Arthur just has to wriggle out of his boxer shorts, and they’re both naked.

Eames waits for Arthur to throw the shorts over the side then slides down his body, pushing his knees apart and resting his hands on his inner thighs.

“Wait, what? I thought I--”

“You will,” Eames says, getting comfortable on his elbows and leaning in to lick just beneath the head of Arthur’s cock. Arthur’s hips jerk, so Eames slides his hands up to his hips to hold him down. “Trust me. You’ll get it up again. But,” he pauses for a second to lick again, wetter this time, up over the head. Arthur tenses under his hands. “This way, no offense, you’re less likely to come as soon as you get it in.”

“That good, hey,” Arthur says, voice shaking.

“It can be.” Another pause, a long lick from the base to the tip. “And you’ve never fucked anyone before, have you.”

“My hand,” Arthur pants, trying to lift his hips again.

Eames just pushes them down more firmly. “I meant like a girl, maybe, but I suppose that answers my question.”

“Why the hell would I have fucked a girl?”

Eames swallows Arthur half way down, sucks hard until he moans, then stops. “It happens sometimes.” He shifts position to get a better grip on Arthur’s hipbones. “I had sex with plenty of women before I ever had sex with a man.”

“Well, no,” Arthur’s breath his catching in the back of his throat, wrapping his legs around to dig his heels into Eames’s back.

This time when Eames slides his mouth down around Arthur, he takes him all the way in and works him over with his tongue until Arthur’s thighs tense around his head, sharp heels digging even harder in to Eames’s spine as he comes.

Arthur’s legs fall open once the shock of orgasm has passed, and Eames swallows then takes a few seconds to lick him clean. He’s sensitive, thighs quivering at every swipe of Eames’s tongue; that reminds Eames that he hasn't had a chance to keep Arthur in bed for a whole day and see how far he can really push him yet.

Not today though. He presses a soft kiss to Arthur's inner thigh and moves up to sprawl next to him. Today is Arthur's day to try something.

Sucking Arthur off is enough to have Eames hard already but he ignores the desperate knots of tension low in his stomach while Arthur cools off from his orgasm, content to stroke the edge of Arthur’s hand with his thumb.

It’s a couple of minutes before Arthur rolls over onto his side, propping his head on his hand and looking at Eames speculatively. There’s still a splash of red high on his cheekbones, and really, Arthur never looks lovelier than he does right after he’s come.

“So,” he says, reaching out to stroke Eames’s ribs. “How do we do this?”

Arthur’s fingers drift over his nipple. Eames has never really been into having his nipples touched, but Arthur’s fascination with them always feels surprisingly good. “Same as always, only opposite.” He shifts his legs apart. “So....”

Arthur’s already leaning over to the bedside table, sliding the drawer open. His back is one long, lithe curve from this angle, pale and soft in the lamplight. It’d be easy to lean up and kiss it, lick and suck down the arch of Arthur’s spine to the curve of his arse, bite a few pale red marks onto the pale skin before spreading him open and tongue-fucking him until he begs.

Eames swallows the thought for later. Besides, he’s reasonably confident that the sounds Arthur will be making soon will be just as good as the ones he makes when Eames is rimming him.

The bed dips as Arthur shifts to kneel between Eames’s legs. He’s looking at Eames like he’s not sure where to start, lube in hand, and just being the subject of that concentration makes Eames’s cock twitch. “You know what feels good when I do it to you, right?” Eames prompts, spreading his legs a little wider.

“Yeah, I guess...” Arthur chews on his lower lip. “I don’t want to fuck it up.”

For a second Eames wonders if maybe they should just stick with fingering tonight and move on to fucking once Arthur’s feeling more confident, but Arthur has the same stubborn look in his eyes that he’s been giving that bloody manuscript for months. “You won’t. I’ll tell you long before it gets that bad, if you head off track.”

Arthur takes a deep breath and slicks his fingers, laying the bottle aside before nudging one of Eame’s knees higher and reaching down. “Okay.”

Eames winces at the first cautious press of Arthur's fingers. "Little more lube, love."

Arthur huffs, but picks up the bottle again. His fingers are dripping wet when they slide back down, far wetter than they need to be, but at least too much is better than not enough.

"That's it," Eames says, biting down on his lip as Arthur's finger slides in, all the way to the third knuckle without preamble. "Fuck, Arthur. Have I ever mentioned you have nice hands?"

"No," Arthur says, distracted, thrusting his finger experimentally until Eames groans.

"You have nice hands," he says. Maybe he's a little biased when one of those lovely long fingers is curving inside him, but it's still true.

Eames tilts his hips back and forth, slowly coaxing Arthur into a rhythm that makes all his muscles tense pleasantly. But it's not enough to really ride, as good as Arthur's finger feels. "Try two."

The look of concentration on Arthur's face intensifies when he pushes two fingers inside, twisting them in the same rhythm Eames started. "Yeah?"

" _Yeah_." Eames thrusts down, cock jerking. "That's... that's really good, fuck."

It’s not long before he can feel pressure building in his balls, wetness smearing his stomach from his untouched cock. He barely hears it when Arthur asks “Three?”, but manages to nod anyway.

Arthur’s obviously not taking anymore chances, because he carefully adds even more lube before pushing back in.

“ _God,_ Arthur,” Eames hisses, clutching at the sheets to stop himself from just grabbing his cock and jerking himself off. They’ll have to have to change the sheets before they can sleep, they’re going to be so covered in lube and come, but then Arthur thrusts his fingers faster, hot and so soaking wet and nothing else matters anymore.

"I could make you come like this?" Arthur asks, eyes focused on where his own fingers are sliding in and out of Eames's body.

Eames recognizes the tone, the moment of realization when it first hits you that you have the power to play another person's body with your fingers and tongue until they break. "You know you could," he says, breathless. "Spread your fingers a little, yeah."

Arthur does, and Eames arches up off the bed. It feels so good to be full, fucked open, three fingers spreading him wide, and he doesn't know why the hell they didn't do this sooner.

“Is that... are you ready?

He’s been ready since the second finger, really. “Yes.”

Arthur draws his fingers out slowly, reaching across to the bedside table for the condom. He jostles the lamp with his elbow, muted light skittering about the room. “Fuck,” he mutters, dropping the condom on Eames’s stomach before he can open it. “Sorry, I--”

“Here,” Eames says softly, picking up the condom and leaning to grab Arthur’s waist and pull him up. Once Arthur’s in position, knees sinking into the mattress on either side of Eames’s hips, he tears the foil packet open.

“Pass me the lube,” he says.

Arthur’s fingers are shaking just enough for it to be perceptible when he hands over the bottle.

Eames doesn’t mention it. He just pours out a little lube and strokes it onto Arthur, feeling the warm pulse of his cock under his hand.

“What are you--”

“It makes it feel better, trust me,” Eames explains, picking up the open packet and carefully rolling the condom on. “There, love.”

Arthur leans down, hands braced on either side of Eames’s head, and kisses him hard. All Eames really wants right now is to feel that warm pulse inside him, but he tilts his face up into the kiss anyway.

“How do you want to... ?” Arthur asks when he pulls back, lower lip still wet.

What Eames wants is for them to fuck face to face, intimate and warm and breathing each other’s air. But if it’d be easier for Arthur to do him from behind the first time, well... “How ever you’re going to be most comfortable,” he says. “Just tell me how you want me.”

Arthur stares down at him for a moment, before moving his legs and settling his weight between Eames’s spread thighs. “Like this is okay?”

“Perfect,” Eames says, tilting his hips enough to give Arthur better access.

Arthur shifts his weight and then the thick head is pushing slick and hot against Eames’s arse, and it shouldn't feel so exciting. He's done this before, hundreds of times before, but the tentative press of Arthur's body still has him panting like a teenager. It'd be so easy to just grab his hips and pull him in. Eames strokes his shoulder blades gently instead. "Just push, love," he whispers, nuzzling Arthur's temple and feeling him exhale, hard and shakey.

"Okay," Arthur says, mouthing at the crook of Eames's neck. "Okay, I'm going to..." He goes silent as he pushes forward a little, just enough for the head to slip in. "Oh. _Ohh_."

"Didn't I tell you," Eames says, rocking a little to feel Arthur inside him.

"Yeah." Arthur swallows, a wet sound against Eames's skin as he pushes in a little more, maybe half way. "Fuck, I'm... I'm really kinda glad you blew me.”

Eames wants to say ‘I told you so’, but he’s too busy biting his lip and fighting the urge to wrap his legs around Arthur’s waist and fuck himself hard on his cock. It’s not enough, not nearly enough, so he lets his hands stroke down to the dimples of Arthur’s back instead.

“Almost there,” he says, kissing the tense muscle of Arthur’s neck. “Just....” Eames braces his feet against the bed and tilts his hips a little higher, to a slightly better angle, and that’s all it takes. Arthur thrusts in, all the way, thighs trembling where they press against Eames’s skin.

“ _Eames,_ ” Arthur gasps, shaking.

“I know.” He closes his eyes, fingers digging in to the small of Arthur’s back. Arthur's shifting, little rhythmless jerks that make Eames's lower spine throb, a teasing promise of how good it will feel when Arthur really starts fucking him.

It's almost torture to wait, with Arthur inside him and the friction where his cock is pressed between their stomachs, but Eames does it anyway, spreading his legs wider to give Arthur more room to get comfortable. "I'm ready when you are."

Arthur shifts his weight a few more times and that _is_ torture, enough to make Eames want to come but not enough to start pushing him over the edge.

Then, finally, Arthur pulls out slowly and pushes back in, shoulders trembling.

" _Arthur,_ " Eames says, hands tightening on the curve of his arse.

"Is that okay?" Arthur asks, thrusting again, more purpose behind it this time.

Eames's toes curl against the sheets and he'd forgotten how good it feels not to be in control, to lie back and just be fucked. "It's great, it's fine, Arthur just--"

"What?" Another careful thrust, and honestly, Eames was sure Arthur would crack first.

" _More_."

Arthur's hips stutter at the words, only for a second, before he snaps.

The first few real thrusts hurt just the wrong side of good, too deep too fast, but Eames arches and takes it anyway. Then Arthur finds his rhythm and it's raw and rough and utterly unpracticed, fingers digging into hipbones and gasping against each other's skin, but it's still more than Eames is used to. The slick curve of Arthur's cock sliding in and out as he rubs up against Arthur's belly is all he needs, finesse be damned.

They kiss, messy, more a haphazard tangle of tongue and teeth and lip than anything. "Eames... Eames I don't think I can...."

Eames presses a quick kiss to the corner of Arthur's mouth. "You don't have to." He draws one knee further up as he says it, sucking in a breath when Arthur slides even deeper and comes hard. Eames can feel the jerk inside him, the way the tension seeps out of Arthur's muscles as he collapses his weight, lying heavy and sweat-damp across Eames's chest.

Later they'll have words about reciprocal etiquette. But for now, Eames just works himself against the warm skin of Arthur's belly, rocking down onto Arthur's softening cock, until he comes.

Eames strokes down Arthur's back, listening to him breathe. "Are you okay?"

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?" Arthur moves, leaning back to pull out.

"Hold the bottom of the condom," Eames says first, waiting until he feels Arthur's hand between them and the harsh friction against oversensitive skin as he withdraws. ”And of course I’m okay. That was...” it’s harder than he thought it would be to fish up a word that really conveys how he feels. “That was really fucking good, okay.”

Arthur reaches over to the wastebasket beside the bed and bins the condom before rolling back to lie next to Eames. “It was?”

“Yes,” Eames says, shifting his legs and feeling the ache. So Arthur was a bit rough and he’s a bit sore, that’s something they can work on later. It was still fucking good. “Did _you_ like it?”

Arthur laughs, low and breathless. “I will let you do anything you want to me, so long as I can do that every now and again.”

Eames raises an eyebrow, turning his head. “Anything?”

“Anything.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Eames warns, rubbing his thumb over Arthur’s hipbone, across the taut skin of his stomach where he’s still sticky with come.

“Sure,” Arthur yawns, sitting up and swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. “But later.”

Eames can’t argue with that, so he just gets up to follow him to the shower. 


End file.
